


Dance For Me

by whisperingink



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M, because prince inigo hell yeah, chrom/olivia inigo and cherche/virion gerome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingink/pseuds/whisperingink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Gerome joins the shepherds and meets the friends he thought he'd lost, he notices some things about Inigo, mainly that he's not the same boy he'd left years ago. And one night, he notices the prince sneaking away from camp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance For Me

Gerome ends the battle with a mother and father regained. His mother, bright haired and mischievous as ever, lovingly teases him on the way back, remarking on the soft blue colored he inherited from his father, but how he clearly has her face. She can tell, even with the mask. When Cherche opens her mouth to start a sentence with, “Back at camp-” Chrom looks over his shoulder and shakes his head at her. It’s clear what he’s thinking. He thinks Gerome should be the one to see his old companions, have his new impressions be his own, not the description of a veritable stranger. And he thinks he can respect the man who called his mother off to war a little more now. 

He follows them into the camp, where they’re welcomed with gasps and exclamations, with arms encircling the other soldiers. Gerome sees a flurry of blue hair and ruffles as a man he recognizes as his younger father rushes at his mother. Still as exuberant as ever...but now is not the time for their reunion, as he feels a familiar touch on his shoulder and turns to see Lucina, whose eyes are bright and shining as she squeezes his arm. He can tell she remembers he was never one for hugs. 

“Gerome,” she says, “I thought….I thought…”

“Well, you were mistaken, Lucina,” he says, offering a smallest smile to his princess, his leader, “You were wrong.” The blue hair is as vivid as ever, and the color brings back memories of a different royal...one with shorter hair, a brand within the other eye, and a penchant for graceful dance. 

“Is he,” he starts, looking at the brand in her dark blue eye, stumbling over his words, “Is...is everyone?” She shakes her head and he feels his heart go numb.

“We haven’t found Yarne, Laurent, Noire, or Nah yet. But I have faith,” she says, tugging at his arm, pulling him away from the loudness, “Come along, I know the rest will be eager to see you.” He wonders if the princess can tell how changed he is from the young boy he’d left her as, for he can easily see how she’s grown. With a bite of his lip, Gerome wonders if her counterpart has changed too.

“Severa?” Lucina calls, pulling aside the opening to a tent, “Owain? Everyone, you won’t believe- oh, brother!” she exclaims with a smile, and Gerome’s mouth grows dry as she drags him inside. 

The man before him turns around, blue hair disheveled and his eyes bright and brand shining as they widen, taking in the sight before him. Gerome wonders if he can recognize him with the mask on. But that fear was apparently unfounded.

Inigo lets his sword clatter to the ground and rushes at him, as if he means to embrace Gerome like he would when they were children. But then, Gerome sees his quick eyes make note of his sister’s presence, and he settles for a clasp of the shoulder. 

“I never thought I’d see you again, old friend,” he says, trying to keep his tone light, but Gerome can hear the years of aches and pains built up in his voice. Inigo is as tall as he is now, his shoulders are broader; he actually fills out his armor now. Gerome opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. He has questions for him, for all of them. Everything seems so far away, even as Inigo puts his warm hand on his shoulder. 

Then there’s Owain’s booming voice, and Severa yelling, Kjelle and Brady rush over too, with Cynthia not far behind, and they’re crowding around him and there’s faces he hasn’t seen in so long and they’ve changed so much. It’s almost overwhelming, for just hours ago he’d intended to stay alone for the rest of his days. And now Cynthia’s bruising him with a hug, Kjelle admonishing him for taking so long to catch up with them, and he can see Brady furiously wiping at his eyes and yelling that he’s not crying. Behind them all, with a genuine smile aimed at him, is Inigo, and Gerome wants to excuse himself already, it’s all too much. 

He can already see the changes in his friends though, and it stings when he sees Inigo’s smile change to a faker one as he compliments Severa with her hair down, his voice oozing with flattery. That is not the Inigo he remembers, or at least is a far more exaggerated one, for while Inigo did enjoy flirting with women, he’d never been so relentless. Kjelle looks war torn, Cynthia much too thin, and Brady’s eyes are shadowed from lack of sleep. We all cope differently, he tells himself, remembering how Nah liked to trample forests. At that memory, Gerome tries not to think about how they’re still missing some of their group. 

When Lucina tells them to give him air, he’s more than grateful to his princess, the woman he’s sure he’ll someday call Queen, for she can so easily rein in her rambunctious fellow soldiers and let him breathe. The only one she doesn’t rush out is Inigo, but she does give Gerome a look, as though to remind him that Inigo is a prince, and her precious little brother, if his memories of how they were as children are to be remembered correctly. 

It is too awkward at first, the silence feels heavier than his armor, which he finally takes off. The battle was long and he is sore. But then, Inigo is close to him again, and he feels so much more vulnerable with the injuries he received in battle exposed. Looking down at his chest, he sees bruises blooming over his collarbones and chest. At least there was minimal bleeding. He can hear Inigo’s sharp inhale and looks up, ready to assuage the prince of his fears. Then, before he can stop him, Inigo’s pressing against his body, hands flat against his flat chest and fingertips curling against the purpling skin. 

“For every night,” he whispers, “After I arrived to this time, I prayed. I prayed to find my sister safe, and my friends, that we would all reunite and save the world and be happy. Those prayers have been answered in a rather sick way, Gerome...we’re reunited, but we’re all different people, and it’s hard to be happy. But I can’t be too sad, because I’d say an extra prayer before sleep.” Gerome stiffens; it’s been so long since he’s had close contact with anyone; not even his mother’s hugged him yet, and now Inigo is curling against him like a lost kitten. 

“What was that prayer, Inigo?” he asks, his voice low. 

“That you would return to us at all,” Inigo answers, “I know you were the one who most wanted to leave the past in the past. Perhaps I am selfish, but I am glad Cherche was able to change your mind.”

Gerome inhales deeply, and Inigo no longer smells of princely things, but of flowers and earth and sweat from fighting and training. He thought he’d left this relationship far in the future, with so many years apart. They’d been blushing awkward children last time. And now they’re so different it’s frightening. He remembers Inigo as a little child, soft and quiet and girlish in face, upset that his big sister seemed to be a better prince than him. Lucina took after their father, Inigo his mother, and Gerome faintly wonders if Queen Olivia is as beautiful and graceful in this time as she remains in his memory. 

“You must be exhausted,” Inigo says, his smile still childish and bright, “I’ll leave you be. Besides, I’m sure you’ll want to rest up. I can already tell that Virion is the type to want a tearful reunion with his beloved son. You can stay in my tent for tonight, if you want. I won’t be here anyways, it’s my turn to patrol,” to make a point, he sheathes his sword and lets it rest against his hip, walking out and leaving Gerome in a tent that feels too empty already. 

-

Gerome isn’t sure how much he likes this new Inigo, who makes comments about wanting to meet lovely ladies and who flirts with Severa and Kjelle despite the fact that they’re constantly on the verge of killing him. He acts more like a prince of course, with more of a swagger in his step and a glint in his eye; the kind of man who can take down ten enemies and still have enough energy to keep fighting. They fight more now, bickering almost constantly. One night, he asks Lucina offhand when Inigo became such a person, and she tells him she doesn’t know any more than he. When he starts thinking that the tender moment in the tent the first night back may have been a one time glimpse as the Inigo he’d known, he finds himself waking in the dead of night to see Inigo slipping out of their tent. 

Stupidly curious, he rouses from his bed minutes later and follows him. Minerva is close behind of course, she wouldn’t let her master just go wandering off without her protection, but she is quiet so Gerome doesn’t mind. Of course, he didn’t expect to stumble upon Inigo standing by a lake with his neck drawn high and his eyes closed, as to prepare himself for...something. To Gerome’s surprise, the prince removes his clothing, shucking armor and leathers to the ground and pulling a rather delicate looking garment out of his rucksack. 

His breath hitches when he realizes that it’s a dancer outfit, in fine blue silks to match his hair, gauzy and light as Inigo smoothes it against his impressive body. He even has jewelry that he puts on, and Gerome has to bite his lip when he realizes that Inigo must’ve taken his mother’s with him when they all fled. There’s a gold collar necklace that finds its way onto his slender neck and Gerome’s breath hitches. 

Then, Inigo begins to dance, and time stops for Gerome. There’s so much grace in his movement, even on the battlefield, where Gerome can see the influence of his dance practice, but here where Inigo thinks nobody’s watching, he allows himself to let go and truly perform. His body moves in almost sinful ways, his hips circling and arms elegant above his head. The scarves whirl around his body and, gods, Gerome had forgotten how revealing this dancer outfit truly is. It hugs the curve of Inigo’s toned ass and exposes muscles of his back, and the way his hips keep moving in circles make Gerome wondering how the little prince would look fucking himself down on his cock, still wearing the outfit. 

Gerome lets a soft moan slip through his parted lips as he keeps his eyes on Inigo, whose face is flushed a soft pink and forehead shining with droplets of sweat as his dancing grows more intense. Once again, his mind flashes to the thought of Inigo blushing like that as he kissed the soft, pale skin of his neck, this time not obscured by such a tempting collar. When Inigo begins to run his hands over his waist and hips, drawing the eye up to his fine collarbones that beg to be suckled on. 

Unable to control himself anymore, Gerome presses the heel of his palm against the hardness in his trousers and lets out a hiss of relief, but it’s not enough, even as he draws his cock out and leans against a tree, keeping his eyes on Inigo while he pumps his shaft. He wants those hands, that pink mouth, he wants all of this Inigo that he is sure only he has seen. Racier images form in his mind. Inigo, riding him like it’s their last day on earth with his head thrown back as he screams for Gerome to fuck him. Inigo, face buried in a pillow as Gerome takes him from behind, hands on those hips that drove him mad as he thrusts deep, deep inside the man. 

“Gods,” he moans softly, stroking himself faster until he feels the heat begin to coil in the pit of his stomach, one final image popping up in his mind: him and Inigo after all of this, back in the royal palace with Inigo in his fine princely outfit, slutty and spread out on his silken sheets and begging for Gerome’s cock like a wanton whore. He has to bite down on his lip to stay silent when he comes, spilling onto his hand as he slumps against the tree. Inigo is still dancing, and Gerome can feel shame coloring his cheeks, for spying on his comrade like this, a total breach of trust. He practically sprints back to camp with Minerva in tow, wondering how he’ll be able to face Inigo in the morning.

-

Gerome had intended to keep his perversion a secret, but it spills out nonetheless when they encounter a festival the next day, accidentally revealing to Inigo he’d seen him dance in the midst of a battle nonetheless. The pink in his cheeks was endearing, not that he’d ever admit it, but the way Inigo talked to him made Gerome wonder if he was at all aware of how he would speak, the innuendos prominent to him. Or perhaps he was just a pervert. 

But, Inigo is many things, but he is not a liar, and he dances for both Minerva and him the night, leading them both into the woods after dinner. Although Gerome would never voice it, he’s disappointed that Inigo didn’t bring his dancer outfit, choosing instead to perform in his regular clothes. He admonishes himself for being a pervert however, and elects to enjoy the beautiful dance, his eyes trained on Inigo’s graceful limbs and the way he gently sucks in his lower lip while concentrating. 

“I’m sorry that it’s still not finished,” he says in a low, erotic voice when the dance ends, and there’s sweat glistening on his neck that Gerome briefly imagines licking off, “But I hope Minerva liked it.” The unspoken ‘and you too’ hangs in the air as they make their way back to camp in the moonlight.


End file.
